He infuses colour into campaigns
By Ajay Jha

THE summer of 1961. A limousine, so rare those days in New Delhi that it was virtually a statement of the owner’s status, drew to a halt. The chauffeur, emerging out of the car, walked straight to a group of motor cycle-rickshaw drivers awaiting passengers. He whispered a name in a low voice and suddenly all eyes turned towards a young man. Parshotam Kumar, barely 25, had just about joined their ranks. Fear was writ large on their faces as he was ordered to board the car. Despite the poor literacy rate of the then India, his colleagues were literate enough to read "Home Ministry" inscribed above the registration plate.

The same driver who had virtually forced him to board the car was taken aback. His sahib, a senior Home Ministry official, was begging for forgiveness with folded hands, without bothering that his subordinates were watching him do so.

A similar scene was enacted outside the court premises within days. The same police officers who had treated him like dirt the other day were now sweet like honey to him. They did not want him to pursue his case any further. He accepted a hefty some of money offered as compensation, rather the price for an out-of-the-court settlement. That was a big price the mighty lot had to pay at a time when citizens generally feared sahibs and the men in uniform — a legacy of the colonial rule. A powerful bureaucrat slapping a young driver who had accidentally knocked down the former’s servant and the highhandedness of a zealous police officer all out to please his boss may not have been unusual. The unusual, however, was the way Parshotam Kumar had reacted to this. As the saying goes, the morning shows the day. Parshotam Kumar was destined to be a man who would take the high and mighty head-on in the years to come.

Limousines still come for him, but chauffeurs do not have to ask for him anymore. He is much sought after by the high and the mighty, particularly with elections just round the corner. Telephones seldom stop ringing at his small office located inside a yet-to-be-finished building in Karol Bagh, Delhi. Times have changed. Today he can afford to be choosy, prefer not to take calls and decide for himself whom he wants to oblige. Famous as Parshotam Vinayak now, he obliges favour-seekers. The favour-seekers incidentally are no lesser mortals,they are some of the big names of the Indian politics. He holds no post, but many think he can still make a difference between defeat and a close victory at the hustings. Vinayak’s unique style and innovative ideas have made him a master of political publicity.

It all started in 1959 when he was forced to resign from the EME unit of the Indian Army where he was working as a fitter. He raised his voice against exploitation of civilians working in the military services. He made an effigy of the Commanding Officer, a colonel, and burnt it inside Delhi cantonment. The result: he was asked either to resign or be ready to be shot dead. He opted for the former and started driving motor cycle-rickshaw to earn a living. He, however, had taken the lead, as he inadvertently became one of the founders of the powerful All India Defence Employees Federation, the union of civilians working with the Army. This was just the beginning of a long innings ahead. Only if he had bothered to keep a proper record, he would have been qualified to get an entry into the Guinness Book of World Records for holding the maximum number of demonstrations, plastering Delhi’s walls with humorous posters and burning effigies. For the last 40 years he has been doing it with religious regularity, nothing less than one a month on an average. "I cannot remember the number, but all I can say is that there has been no corrupt politician, no matter which party he belonged to, whose effigy I have not burnt during the last four decades," says Vinayak, who runs an organisation by the name of All India Bhrashtachar Virodhi Morcha (All India Anti-Corruption Front).

It was a quirk of fate that Vinayak, who was a member of the Rightist Jana Sangh for close to 25 years, drifted closer to Indira Gandhi. He was among the bitter critics of Indira Gandhi and was even arrested for a while during the infamous Emergency. However, within a few months of the Opposition coming to power in 1977, he had a change of heart. "All my life I fought corruption but realised leaders of the Janata Party were more corrupt than the Congress," recalls Vinayak. When Indira Gandhi was down in the dumps, and even her loyalists had deserted her, Vinayak joined hands with her. Gandhis never forgot that and ever since he has come to be recognised as a Gandhi family loyalist for whom doors of 10, Janpath, are always open. Probably because he does not seek favours.

It is intriguing to imagine that someone who has been so sought after and has been lurking around the power centre has never been offered any post in any of the parties. "Simple. I go beyond party affiliations when it comes to corruption. I have spared none thus far. I never asked for a post, none offered me, neither the Jana Sangh nor the Congress," he says and adds, " I have my own organisation. They cannot dislodge me from this post at least." His sense of humour is evident in his posters, cassettes and publicity material.

While he claims to spare none, he has been particularly harsh on his former colleagues who are now in the Bharatiya Janata Party. But that does not mean he is soft towards the Congressmen. His most memorable moments are when he burnt effigies of former President Giani Zail Singh after it was disclosed that he had once almost dismissed the Rajiv Gandhi government in collusion with the opposition parties and then there was a series of demonstrations against the then Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao. "It was fun fighting against my own partymen, because they were wrong and corrupt," he says with his trademark smile.

Innovation in publicity is his hallmark. Long ago he realised that wall posters were getting too common and boring. So instead of having normal posters, he went in for cartoons and caricatures where his characters said it all. "They are eye-catching and people do stop to read the whole content." Similarly, much before satellite channels realised the potential of Hindi film songs, Vinayak had started making political parodies based on the tunes of popular songs. He writes the lyrics and has a team of musicians who perform live when he takes out his vehicle-mounted demonstrations. During elections he invariably comes out with two-three such cassettes that he supplies to Congress candidates free of cost all over the country.

Vinayak has one ability — he is not afraid of calling a spade a spade. Despite being on the forefront of ‘bring Sonia into politics’ campaign after the assassination of Rajiv Gandhi and among the most vociferous to demand reversal of her decision after she resigned as the Congress leader recently, he loses no time in saying: "Sonia Gandhi should follow Mahatma Gandhi. She should confine herself to the task of leading the party and not seek power."

Vinayak’s utility or his nuisance value, depending upon which political party one belongs to, is rather too well known. If he is capable of damaging someone’s electoral prospects, as he did during last year’s Delhi assembly elections by concentrating on the rising prices of onion, he is also capable of creating goodwill for a candidate. Some persons have even tried to ape him. "You can copy my style, but how can you copy my inspiration?" he says. True, his inspiring ideas infuse enthusiasm whenever the Congress finds itself down in the dumps.

So is he ready for the elections? "Not yet. Politics can wait for a while. It is time to think of the nation," Vinayak says, referring to the Pakistan-led infiltration in Kashmir. For record, Vinayak does not drive motor cycle-rickshaws anymore. He dabbles in politics, deals in properties and drives around in his own limousine.